Just Yours
by witwit8
Summary: Gail is the one who turns to booze in moments of personal crisis. Not Holly. Never Holly.
1. 1

"Just Yours"

Author: Whit

Synopsis: Gail is the one who turns to booze in times of personal crisis. Not Holly. Never Holly.

Rating: Probably bordering on M-ish but I'm gonna say T. Nothing too graphic.

Author's Note: This is sort of a drunken experiment of sorts. Have an additional chapter- the sequel to this, I guess. If enough people like it, I'll post it. Just let me know. Enjoy!

You find yourself at your apartment door at 4 o'clock in the morning, drunk and stumbling, cursing and mumbling to yourself as you close one eye to cease your double vision, trying unsuccessfully to fit your key into the lock. A few more moments, a few more failed attempts and then- a sudden rustling, the padding of feet and then the creak of the door as it opens. You know your movements are slow- somehow almost suspended in time as you allow your eyes to drift up from the now absent door front to your girlfriend, dressed in her favorite (tiny, _God_, so tiny) robe, her short peroxide locks slightly mussed from sleep.

You bite your lip, your eyes roaming hungrily over her body for one, two, three long moments before you're catapulting yourself toward her, your hands finding her hair clumsily, your lips barely finding their target as they slam into the side of her mouth. You right yourself, take a deep breath, and somehow manage to slam the door with your foot as you both stumble inside. She allows herself to melt into the frenzy for a minute or two- you're not really sure, you're not counting minutes, not counting time in increments that anyone except you both can measure. The pressure of her lips, the way she bites your bottom lip and slips her tongue into your mouth at the gasp that unhinges your jaw in surprise- the feel of her hands as they palm your breasts over your shirt before yanking the fabric up and over your head- nothing else matters, nothing else exists. Nothing else can hurt you.

She pulls away abruptly just as your hands are fumbling down her sides, pulling her underwear haphazardly down her pale legs. It's jarring and leaves your world spinning for a moment. You try to close your eye again- just the one- to stop the spinning- but it doesn't work and suddenly her hands are on your cheeks and she's soothing her thumbs over them as she stares into your glassy eyes.

"You're drunk," she says softly, her brow furrowed in concern, "You're drunk and it's a Wednesday at four o'clock in the morning and I've been worried and- Hol?"

The question echoes in the quiet, dim apartment as you try to focus on her beautiful blue eyes. You try to formulate an answer, try to speak but your tongue feels heavy, the words stuck in your throat. The tears come unbidden and suddenly you're sitting on your couch and your head is buried in her shoulder and it smells like home and then- that's when you break, the sobs wracking your body, your shoulders and chest heaving with the effort.

She encapsulates you, folding herself around you, curling you into her tight embrace, kissing the crown of your head intermittently. You quiet after long, drawn out moments, the tears ebbing away but your clutch on the front of her robe growing tighter still.

A simple inquiry, a long gaze- and then the words spill out, slightly slurred and shaky. A doctor's appointment. A simple test- not even one you were fucking looking to get and then…

It's incredible, you tell her, how you don't realize how much you want something until you're told you can never have it. You're thirty five. You're thirty fucking five and you waited too long and now?

She draws you into a gentle kiss, wipes the tracks of tears from your face. Pulls you up by both hands and leads you, wobbly and still shaking, into your bathroom. You hear the hiss of the shower when she starts it, barely feel when she strips you of what was left of your clothing. You're underneath the mercifully hot spray before you realize it, her hands snaking up you arms, rubbing in slow circles before you're pulled flush against her slick, warm body. Her arms wind around you, her head finding its favorite spot nestled in the crook of your neck. She nuzzles it for a moment before she begins to plant firm kisses along your neck, starting at the slope of your shoulder and moving up slowly, reaching your ear and blowing into it, her arms growing tighter still as your knees begin to give way, holding you up even as she begins to speak softly.

"I'm sorry, baby. I… I didn't know. I didn't know that. You know. I didn't know you wanted…"

A shaky sigh as you wind your own arms underneath her arms and clutch at her back.

"I didn't either. I- I didn't know until they told me and then all I could think about- all I could think about it how we'd never get to, I don't know… Paint a nursery or argue about baby names or- I don't know- have a life, a family, with you. And I-"

A moment as you pull back look at her, her short hair dripping wet, the steam of the spray swirling around her. Your hands find their place on her flushed cheeks, your thumb brushing her bottom lip. A deep breath and suddenly you've never been more sober in your life.

"I- I want that with you, Gail. I want a family. And a dog. And I want to have children with you. And now-"

She furrows her brow and cocks her head to the side, her mouth opening and closing before she takes her own deep, steadying breathe. Closes her eyes, focuses them back upon you. You hold your breath.

She kisses you, softly. Just a whisper, a ghost of a kiss. When she pulls away, her eyes are different. Softer. Determined.

She dries you with a towel, dresses you in your favorite pajamas and kisses you to sleep, whispering promises of better days. You drift almost instantly to the sound of her heartbeat and the gentle humming of her voice in a familiar melody as she soothes your hair with her palms while her fingers comb through your hair.

You wake in the morning with a headache and a rolling stomach. A note is on your bedside table, the sheets beside you long cold.

_Good morning, Hol. Had to run a couple of errands. Called us both in sick. Herald said to take a few days if you needed them. I'll be back in a few hours. There's Gatorade (the light blue kind ) and Tylenol on the nightstand. I love you. I hated to leave you this morning. Call me if you need anything. _

The evening's events come crashing back into your skull then, nearly suffocating you with their weight. It's hard to breathe, hard to do anything except close your eyes and fend off the rising nausea and overwhelming urge to cry. It doesn't last long- the sound of a key in the door and heavy footsteps on the hardwood make you jolt upright, all of a sudden trepidatious of the impending conversation you were about to have with your girlfriend.

She comes in quietly, her eyebrows jutting up in surprise when she sees that you're awake. Her arms are filled with various bags and books. You meet her look of surprise with your one of your own.

"You're awake. I didn't think you'd be-" She says, breaking you both out of your shared stupor. She shifts the bags in her hands and walks toward you, cautiously, almost shyly. She drops down beside you on the bed, placing the bags toward the foot of it carefully before suddenly blanketing herself over you, wrapping herself around you once more.

A heavy sigh sounds from her lips, a shuddering exhale. She grips you tighter, tells you that she loves you. So much. You grip back, the tension melting from your body as she breathes into you. In. Out. In. Out.

A long moment later, you feel her body shift away from yours. You watch her from your position on the bed with a curious expression coloring your features. She begins to unpack the bags she was carrying, pulling pamphlets and various trinkets out of the slick plastic.

You say her name, the tone of it coming out more as a question than it was intended. She looks down for a moment, silently. When she looks up she has a bemused smile on her face and begins to lay out the various items in front of you on the bed. You shift to sit up slightly, smiling affectionately when she moves to put another pillow behind your back.

"I, um- I know that what you found out yesterday really hurt you and I'm so sorry. I wish I could take it all back and I wish that I could give that back to you. I've never told you this but- all those things, Hol. I want them with you, I do. These last three years have been- I can't even begin to…"

She stops for a moment, looks down, takes a gulp of air. Looks back up, determined. You don't dare say a word.

"I went to the doctor this morning. Well, I did a lot of things this morning but mostly I went to the doctor and well, I- Holly, if we want to adopt, we should. If we want to have a baby… we should. I can. And I went to the fucking sperm bank and got some dudes to look at and, well- "

Your stomach is rolling in an entirely different way. Your throat is dry. Your eyes are wide. And she's beautiful. She's gesturing at all of the papers and pamphlets and talking about a man she read about- a neurosurgeon- with, like, a genius I.Q. and blue eyes and black hair just like yours and she's saying all of these unbelievable, breathtaking things.

"-and I've been talking to Noelle and a couple of other women on the force who've been pregnant on the job and, well, it'll probably be easier now that I'm in the rotation instead on the on the streets, anyway. And that's if it were to happen today which is probably not the best course of action, you know? Also probably impossible. I think they want you to schedule that shit in advance."

She's saying so many things. And you're paralyzed. You really are.

"And really out of order, you know. Because I want you, Hol. I want you. I've wanted you even before I knew you wanted you in that goddamn coat closet. And I should have done this years ago but-"

And then there's a box on your lap. And this box? It opens.

And there's something very bright and very round and very- _holy shit- _inside.

"Leo and Steve helped me pick it out so if you don't like it, well- you know where to find them. We both know I'm shit at this kind of thing. All I could do was point at the shiniest ones and hand them my credit card-"

You lurch forward, knock her backwards. She grabs the ring first, you next. You crash your lips on hers, overwhelmed, unable to do anything but move your lips against hers over and over and over again. You're laughing when you pull apart.

"Is that your way of asking me to marry you, Detective?"

A slight pause.

"Yes?"

You raise your eyebrows, a smirk on your face.

"Yes?"

"It depends." She says after a moment of hesitation.

"On?" Your eyebrow raises, the smirk still firm on your face.

"Well, are you gonna say yes?"

You laugh out loud then, your body still firmly planted on top of hers.

And then suddenly you're not laughing anymore. You're looking down at her with such seriousness and devotion and want and it's all you can do to merely husk out the words, feeling her shiver as they meet her ears.

"God, Gail. What do you think?"

And then her hands are in your hair and her mouth is sealed onto yours and her tongue is doing the most delicious things as it ghosts inside your mouth again and again. Your thigh shifts in between her own and the moan that reverberates in both of your mouths only makes you kiss her harder, makes your hands drift further down her body.

You wish you could say that you made love- you wish you could say that you took her gently and lovingly and took your time.

You end up fucking her- your future _wife-_ on the floor, tangled in clothes, her fingers twisting into the thick rug at the base of your bed, her head thrown back as you buried your fingers inside of her. She comes with her hands in your hair, her back bowed, your name spilling from her ruby lips.

She slips the ring onto your hand hours later after you're too tired to do anything better with it.

You go to sleep that night with a smile on your face and only a little melancholy in your heart. She's wrapped herself around you once more, seemingly trying to protect you, trying to shield you from the harshness and terror of the world. You let her, revel in the embrace. You think of the future, think of the woman who will be your wife, who will give life to your children.

Sleep comes harder that night. The ache still lingers in your chest. But with it is a new feeling, a new tinge of excitement. You're starting over, you realize. Starting a new. Stepping into the future with the person you love. The person you're going to be with for the rest of your life who loves you enough to do things she never thought she'd do.

You close your eyes and think of tomorrow with a smile on your face. She's your future. She's your everything. She's just yours.


	2. 2

Chapter 2

So much fluff. Sorry bout ya. Or me. Whatever. This is actually a piece that I originally wrote for another fandom that I tweaked for the RB verse. Bonus points to anyone who can identify/ has read the original story on which it's based.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the gentle rise and fall of her chest.

She breathes in, quietly, and you can't help your hand as it comes to rest on the naked, moving skin. You watch your hand moving up and down with it for a few moments and then run your fingers across her collarbone, softly. You feel the warmth of her spread across your palm; feel her soft skin against your fingertips. You study it for a moment- the softness of her porcelain skin, the difference in your olive hand on her chest.

In the morning's soft glow, you don't fight the soft smile of contentment that spreads across your face. You let it grace your features; you allow the soft smile to lay crooked on your face.

She doesn't stir, doesn't bat an eyelid- she always was a bit of a heavy sleeper. Lately even more so.

That thought is enough to cause a full fledged smile to break out onto your features.

The reminder.

The reason for it all. The warmth in your stomach, the buzzing in your skull. The ever present excitement that now defines your every moment.

You can't help yourself pull the twisted sheets away from her body. Glancing up at her still closed eyes, you take the time to rake your own over the full form of her- the beautiful, full form of her- once the sheets are away from her body.

You stare at her face- still peaceful and soft from slumber- and down the graceful slop of her neck. As your eyes drift, so does your hand, still caressing softly. A creamy shoulder, partially covered by light auburn, natural hair. A full breast. And then…

You linger at the top of her ribs, your full palm coming to rest upon her distended stomach and then your fingers stroke, reverently. You pause, your eyes taking in the swell of her. Eight months pregnant- growing bigger- and more lovely, you say- everyday.

Without thinking, you bring your own body down level with the noticeable bulge and press lingering kisses there, your hand still maintaining the same movement. You curl into the side of her and whisper softly to the child- your child, both of you- forming in her belly and lay your head down, closing your eyes.

You don't realize you've fallen asleep until you wake, hours later, to gentle fingers running through your hair.

You grab the fingers with little thought and tangle them with your own, bringing them to rest against your face. Both of your rings- yours catching in the light and spilling its dazzling prism on the walls- hers, silver, simple, touch as you bring it to your lips.

She sighs so softly. With such contentment.

It's quiet for a few peaceful moments. So very still. You think at first that she may have gone back to sleep until she says your name, barely a whisper.

"Holly," she says.

You send out a gentle hum in response, your eyes and lips and still lingering on her swollen belly.

"I love you."

You respond in kind, finally inching your way up her body. Her eyes are still slightly glazed from sleep, her hair a bit tangled.

"You're so beautiful." The words slip out without hesitation, without thought. Because she just is.

Her face, if possible, becomes even softer, her ice blue eyes becoming brighter. Your lips hover above hers for a few seconds as your hand comes up to cup her cheek. You watch her pupils dilate, her lids close, her lips begin to part. You lean in, your own eyes closing, when suddenly your hand is ripped unceremoniously from her cheek. You open your eyes just in time to see her running toward the bathroom, hand firmly clasped over her mouth.

Retching noises follow soon after.

You sigh sympathetically following quickly behind and grab a hair tie off of the dresser. You find her in front of the toilet, shoulder shaking, clutching her belly.

You kneel beside her as she empties the contents of her stomach into the toilet bowl. You scrape the hair out of her face, soothe her sweaty forehead with your palm, and then gather the remaining hair at the base of her neck. You pull it into a ponytail- a messy one- and then run your hand in soothing circles on her back.

"Nerd Spawn is not happy, Hol," she groans, dry-heaving, "Either that or she's using my stomach as as goddamn drum set. Jury's still out on it."

You smile sympathetically.

She quiets after a moment, only trembling slightly. You say her name softly, hand still running down the length of her spine. She turns to you then, collapsing into your arms, burying her head into your chest.

You hold her, laying kisses on her head, before helping her up to wash her face and clean her teeth.

After you lead her back to the bed, she curls up on her side while you go to the dresser to grab clothes for you both.

You don't even bother to look at what you've gathered for yourself- a t-shirt of some kind and a favorite, well worn pair of jeans, you think- but take a few moments to decide on your wife's clothing.

You finally settle on her most comfortable dress and underwear.

When you make your way back over to the bed, her eyelids are already drifting closed once more.

Smiling lazily, you hand her her clothes, helping when the dress gets caught over her midsection. Once the dressing is complete, she lays back down, yawning.

You smile again, the sight making your heart swell. You make a move to leave for the kitchen when her small, exhausted voice calls you back.

She catches you by the back of your neck with her small hands and pulls you in. Your hands fall to either side of her head, trying desperately to catch your own weight before it tumbles onto her, as she kisses you. It's lazy, exhausted, minty- and makes you moan into her mouth.

She's smiling when you pull away. You stroke her face, nuzzle her nose with yours and lock your eyes with hers.

"Good morning, baby," she whispers.

"Good morning," you smile in return.

Hope you enjoyed. Let me know what you think. I sort of have another chapter of this as well. I seem to have a problem. Oh, well. Need to beta but should be ready sort of soon.

Thanks!

Whit


End file.
